My 18-year-old daughter, Somaya Abulfetouh, wrote this poem in light of last night’s horrible events in Cairo. She has given me permission to publish it on my blog.
By Somaya Abulfetouh
A boy of sixteen leaving his home
Once in the street, he kicks a stone
His mother sleeps, her door open a crack
She has no doubt her son will be back
A man and his wife go out to root
He wears a jacket, she wears her favorite boot
They’re happy and giddy; it’s their favorite team!
For a long time that’s been their dream
A girl of fourteen bids her father farewell
He tells her not to be late; she tells him she’ll be well
She checks behind her back out of habit
She’s so innocent, like a little rabbit
The boy of sixteen never got home
The man and the wife didn’t die alone
The girl of fourteen was not well
Who calls their families, who’s the one to tell?
Children and men, what did they do?
They had no ticket; they couldn’t get through
Is that why they died? Is that your excuse?
They shouldn’t be punished, not even a bruise!
“You should be protecting us, you should be our safety!”
“If you’re the ones who kill us, what should our fates be?”
Everyone wants to know what this is!
They all shed tears for all the injustice
If a mother worries when her child leaves to school
And a husband can’t let his wife out the door
If every time a man leaves so he can provide
He isn’t sure he’ll be home that night
How can they call this their home?
How can they live if they’re that death prone?
No one should have to go through this much pain
If this is a drought, when will come the rain?